Sienna Shades of Light
by Nynaeve1723
Summary: Jordan returns to Boston after an absence of nearly five years. Sparked by “LV” crossover ep that aired tonight. FINISHED.
1. Scurry

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

**Part One: Scurry**

Garret leaned against the door frame of Trace. Nigel and Bug looked up from the fibers they were discussing. Garret spoke quietly. "Jordan's coming back."

"For a visit?" Bug asked.

Macy shook his head. "She's coming home. To stay."

"Did – I thought everything was going really well." No matter how much Nigel missed her, his voice expressed the concern of a good friend who puts his friend's happiness above his needs.

Macy shrugged, still feeling numb from the phone call he'd received. He looked down for a moment. "Danny was killed in an attempted casino hold up."

"Oh, God, poor Jordan," breathed Nigel.

XXXXX

_Six years previously_…

Jordan groaned when her alarm went off. She slammed one hand down on the snooze button and pulled the sheets over her head. Her head spun with lack of sleep and she could feel an incipient ache at her temples. _There's always another flight tomorrow night_, he'd said. Damn him. She'd tossed and turned most of the night after that. Tossed, turned and maybe, possibly, called an airline or two to find out about those flight times. She sat up before the alarm could shrill again and switched it off. A shower would help.

A cold shower.

_Face it, Jordan_, she told herself as she shed her pajamas and turned on the water, _you want him, want what he's offering._ She sighed as she stepped under the water. "No complications, Jordan. Just – Just a chance to wear that last set of pajamas," he'd whispered before leaving her. "No strings. Nothing more. Two people who like each other. A lot."

No complications. Was that even possible? Hadn't it been at one point in her life? Before Woody waltzed into her life.

_Come on, Jordan, maybe it wasn't complicated, but was it worth it?_

She shampooed her hair and sighed again. She kept coming back to one simple fact: she wanted him. She wanted him in a way she'd nearly forgotten she could want someone other than Woody. A stab of guilt went through her. Didn't she still want Woody?

_Doesn't matter. He doesn't want you_.

"Oh, hell," she muttered as she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Dripping, one towel around her hair, another held against her body, she called the airline that had had the earliest flight to Vegas. Then she threw a few things in a bag.

Two hours later she was on a plane.

XXXXX

Wondering what on earth she'd done, what had possessed her – _Oh, right, Jordan, you know damn well what possessed you!_ – she sat in her seat as the other passengers deplaned. When the aisles were clearing, she stood up and pulled her carry-on down from the overhead bin. Hoping she wasn't shaking visibly, she made her way past the flight attendants and captain who looked as if they'd begun to worry their last passenger had decided to remain rooted to her seat.

She walked out of the jet way and started past the crowds of people waiting to board the next leg of the flight.

"I was beginning to think you were going to keep going to Seattle."

Jordan whirled at the sound of the voice and found Danny McCoy leaning against a poster advertising Celine Dion's show. She gaped at him. "How'd you know I – And how'd you get in here?"

He grinned and moved toward her, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "I confess." He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I flagged your credit card. And, as for being here, well…" He gave her an aw-shucks shrug. "I pulled a few strings." He studied her face. "Do you mind?"

Her eyes were wide, stunned, but she recovered her composure with Jordan-like speed. "I should."

He dipped his mouth toward hers. "But…?"

She tilted up her chin. "I'll let it slide. This time."

He chuckled before bringing his mouth to hers. His kiss was gentle, but not at all tentative. He knew what he wanted and made no secret of communicating it to her. When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead on hers for a moment. "Is that all you brought?" He gestured to her carry-on.

She nodded, her mouth as arid as the desert around the city.

Without asking, he slipped the strap from her shoulder and took her hand. "Come on. I've pulled a few more strings."

He wasn't kidding, Jordan found out. With a wave to a plain clothes security guard, he led her out a doorway marked Authorized Personnel ONLY, through a short corridor and down a flight of steps to another door. This one opened into a bright Las Vegas day and in a few steps, Jordan found herself in one of the Montecito's limos.

As they settled in, he asked her if she was hungry.

Jordan arched an eyebrow. "Lunch?" She placed a hand on the back of his head and pulled him to her for another kiss. His arms went around her, his hands moved against her back, chasing shivers up and down her spine. By the time they parted, both were breathing fast.

Danny grinned. "Would room service be better?"

XXXXX

Danny lay on one side and watched her sleep, her back to him, her body close. Her dark hair spilled over the pillow and, in slumber, she looked carefree, content. As gently as he could, he stroked her cheek, the satin of her skin reawakening his desire. He'd meant it when he's promised her no strings, but he had to admit she stirred something in him. He wouldn't mind having her in his bed every night. No sane man would, but it was more than that. He liked her in a way he hadn't liked any woman in a long time. She was honest and straightforward, as well as passionate about her work and – he suspected – the people in her life, once she let them in. He didn't know what had happened with Hoyt – and he didn't care except that it seemed to have dimmed something in her – but it was obvious things had changed. Watching her breathe deeply and easily, inhaling the scent of her, Danny realized he didn't want things to change back.

He bent to her shoulder and began dropping butterfly kisses on her skin. She smiled in her sleep. He whispered her name. Her eyes flickered open and she rolled on her back to gaze up at him. "Hi," she murmured.

"Hi," he replied with a smile.

"What time is it?"

He told her. "We're having dinner with Ed."

She started. "Well, I hope he likes my pajamas. I didn't bring much else."

He laughed. "Don't worry. I'll have something sent up from one of the shops."

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. Then she grinned. "A girl could get used to this."

"I hope so," he murmured in her ear, feeling a shudder go through her. "Give me a minute." He made a phone call or two – got her size right without asking, Jordan noted, and said, with a sly grin over his shoulder, that red was the only color that would do. When he hung up, he turned back to her. "Taken care of. They'll send someone up. In the meantime…." His finger traced a line up her arm and along her collarbone, trailing up the column of her throat to lift her chin. "What else could a girl get used to, Jordan?"

His hand slipped beneath her head, cradling her as their mouths met again. Beneath his, her lips parted and they kissed deeply, thoroughly. With his free hand, Danny began to stroke the line of her hip bone, feeling her arch to meet him. His lips trailed down her neck and along the swell of her breast. As his hand slipped between her thighs, he teased softly, "Could a girl get used to this?"

She nodded and made a small sound of pleasure in the back of her throat.

His deft fingers caressed her thighs and he kissed his way down her abdomen. "How about this?"

She nodded again, biting back moans of delight.

Her body shuddered as he moved over her and slid into her. "Get used to this, Jordan?"

She swallowed. He twined his fingers in hers and laid her hands on the pillow, on either side of her head. He gazed down into her eyes, watching as she fought with herself. The battle raged in her eyes. He could swim in their honey depths if she'd let him. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice as gently caressing as his fingers had been. "Let go, Jordan. Let yourself feel. I'm not going to hurt you." He shifted slightly and knew he'd found an angle which heightened her pleasure. His own arousal raged, but he held back, wanting the pleasure they'd shared before to touch her body and soul this time. "I promise," he pledged. To his dismay – and hers – tears sprung to her eyes. He felt her retreat. "Hey, hey," he murmured in her ear. "Remember, no complications. Two people who like each other, right?"

She caught her breath, forced back the pain and nodded. "A lot," she smiled tightly.

"Yeah." His smile encouraged her. She relaxed and gave in to what he wanted to give her.

When she lay in his arms, her head on his shoulder, she felt – empty. But for the first time in a very long time, it was the good kind of empty. The kind waited to be filled. If it was supposed to have been Woody who brought her to this point, she pushed that feeling away. That was over.

XXXXX

Sam knocked on Danny's door, holding the dress, shoes and, unbeknownst to Jordan, the jewelry he'd asked for. His face registered his surprise when Sam smiled sweetly at him. "I ran into Kris and told her I'd bring up your – attire." Sam tried to peer around him. "Where is she?"

Danny smirked at her. "Who?" He took the items from her, still blocking any view of the room with his body.

"Oh, come on, Danny. Unless you've decided red is your color and you look good in a strapless gown and heels…."

"I haven't."

Sam nodded. "Then who is she?"

"Weren't you invited to dinner, too?"

Sam tapped a foot. "Yes. So?"

As he closed the door, he smiled just as sweetly as she had. "You'll see."

Thwarted, Sam scowled as she made her way back to the elevator. Woody stood in the car, holding the door. Sulkily, Sam said, "He's bringing her to dinner."

"Who is it?" Hoyt asked.

Sam shrugged. "Probably some showgirl. He'll parade her around tonight and then tomorrow have forgotten her name. If he ever knew it."

XXXXX

Sam was on her second club soda, Woody his third (nothing stronger for the two of them just then) when Danny made his entrance. "Twenty minutes late," Sam breathed. She recognized the dress about the time Woody recognized the woman in it.

His blue eyes burning with jealous fury, Woody muttered, "Oh, he knows her name."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, unable to get out more than that.

Danny kept a protective arm around Jordan's waist as he re-introduced her to Ed Deline. The casino owner leaned in and gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you decided to come visit – us."

Blushing slightly, Jordan let her gaze drift up briefly toward Danny. "Me, too," she assured Ed.

Woody seethed.

END Part One


	2. Choices

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

**Part Two: Choices**

_Boston_

"Someone should tell Woody," Lily said quietly. She sat in the break room with Garret, Nigel and Bug. The morgue was after-hours quiet.

Nigel didn't look up from his coffee. "Why?"

"Nigel!" Lily admonished. "Because – Because – You know why!"

Now the Brit did look up. He liked Woody, though for a while that feeling had definitely faded. Nonetheless, Nigel loved Jordan as only a friend can and part of him had never forgiven the homicide detective for hurting Jordan the way he had. "Woody pushed Jordan out of his life a long time ago."

"Yes, but-"

Nigel shook his head. "She moved on. If Jordan wants him to know, she'll tell him when she gets back."

"Nigel-!"

"He's right," Garret said calmly. He met Lily's pleading gaze with his own steady, implacable one. "If Jordan wants Woody to know, she'll tell him in her own time and her own way."

"Tell me what?" Woody stood in the doorway, a pathology report in hand.

For a moment silence filled the spaces between them all. With a sigh, it was Garret who spoke. "Danny McCoy was killed. Jordan's coming home to Boston with Catherine and Sarah."

XXXXX

_Five years previously…_

Jordan reread the letter that had arrived that morning. She'd perused it at least five times, still disbelieving its contents. An offer like this… true, she'd let them know she was interested, but… this? And Danny had promised to stay out of it so… so… she read the letter for the seventh or eighth time.

For nearly a year she and Danny had racked up frequent flier miles – or would have if Ed Deline had offered them almost unlimited use of the Montecito's private plane – to see each other whenever their work schedules permitted. The strings Danny had promised weren't there had caught them both by surprise. What had begun as an impulsive affair borne of fierce attraction had developed into the type of security Jordan had never known.

Danny never lied to her, never asked more of her than she was ready to give and never pushed her to move forward. The changes in their relationship were gradual, almost imperceptible and, for the first time she could recall, Jordan had been the first to say "I love you." True, Danny had been avoiding that utterance for fear of sending her fleeing, but he understood exactly what it meant for her to say it when she did.

He'd been in Boston in late May. She'd had a long day and had gone up to the roof to unwind before meeting him for dinner. He had found her there, staring across the city she loved so much. She'd leaned against him and he'd held her tightly, his chin on her shoulder. He'd said something funny – she couldn't remember what, but she'd laughed. She'd slid a hand up his cheek, resting her palm against his face. Still smiling, she'd murmured, "I love you." So easy, so natural, so… perfect.

He had kissed her neck. "And here I thought it was just the great sex."

"Well, there is that."

He'd tickled her ribs, knowing how to do it just right to make her hot almost instantly. "I love you, too, Jordan."

To her surprise, she'd found she didn't have to adjust to the idea of loving him and having him love her. She didn't have to worry about hurting him or building walls to keep him from hurting her. The strings might have been well in place by then, but it was still as uncomplicated as he'd told her it would be. They were still two people who liked each other. A lot.

Quite a lot.

And now as a dreary October rain sluiced the city, Jordan read a letter offering her a job in Las Vegas. The Clark County Coroner's Office, to be exact, second-in-charge. As much as she ached at the thought of leaving Boston, of leaving Garret and Nigel and Lily and Bug, her heart wasn't here anymore. Her heart was in the middle of an improbable oasis in the Nevada desert.

She gave Garret her two weeks notice, paid off her lease on her apartment and packed up the few things she wanted. Somehow, a lot of her things had already migrated out west, as if waiting for her to get with the program. She cried at the goodbye party they threw her, promising to come back often for visits and insisting everyone come to the desert when they could. She left behind wedding invitations for a ceremony four months away.

Her heart clenched just the slightest bit when Lily offered to pass on Woody's invitation for her. She shook her head. "He wouldn't come."

"Jordan-"

Jordan shook her head again. "Leave it alone, Lily. Okay?" The unshed tears in her eyes were, Jordan told herself, for the friendship that had been lost. She had fought so long to preserve it and, in the end, it hadn't mattered. It hadn't been enough for Woody. She hadn't been enough. She regretted what might have been, but not what was.

It was two months later that Woody finally looked at Bug, who'd caught yet another of Woody's cases, and asked, "Where's Jordan?"

"Las Vegas," came the laconic reply.

"Geez, is she ever in Boston anymore?" Hoyt had asked sarcastically.

Bug gave him a perplexed look. "Woody, she moved out there. She's getting married in two months."

"What? When did she – she moved?" His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. "What she'd do – pull up stakes and just vanish as usual?"

"No," Bug shook his head. "She got a job out there, a really good job. She gave Dr. Macy her notice. We had goodbye party and everything." He stopped. "She didn't tell you?"

"Never said a word. Of course, she hadn't been the responding M.E. to many of my cases. Maybe it slipped her mind." His voice was bitter.

XXXXX

Nigel found Max in time for the wedding. Max found himself liking Danny McCoy quite a lot and Ed Deline was the sort of man to whom Max could relate pretty well. As he waited with Jordan, dressed in a tuxedo for their walk down the aisle, he smiled at her. "I always knew you'd run off to Vegas to get married, Jordan."

She laughed at him. "I wanted to get married at the Perpetual Chapel of Love, but Danny insisted on something a little more traditional."

Max took her hand. "Are you happy, Jordan?"

She nodded.

"He's not Woody."

"No, he's not," she said simply.

"I always thought you two would…."

"It didn't work, Dad." She smiled. "This works."

Max didn't respond, just studied her face for a few minutes. Somehow she'd taken the train wreck of her life and sculpted a great deal of beauty from it. She'd always been good at her job, but Max was unaccustomed to seeing her be good at her life. She had struggled for so long to get to this place. If the man standing at the other end of the aisle wasn't the one he'd envisioned after meeting Hoyt, well, that was Hoyt's loss.

Jordan stood up when she heard the bridal march. "That's our cue."

XXXXX

They honeymooned in Argentina, ignoring the light hearted jibes about its being a non-extradition country. During the days they took in the sights and at night they made love with as much passion and pleasure as the first time she'd come to Las Vegas – back when there were no strings. Or so they'd thought.

Jordan was pregnant by the time they came home. Catherine Allison screamed her way into the world in the middle of the night after a quick, intense labor that left Jordan exhausted and Danny amazed at her, all over again.

Sarah Anne made her appearance fourteen months later, proof that her parents' attraction and passion for each other was not diminishing.

Danny doted on his daughters, who had his wife's looks and his sly smile. He doted on his wife and never ceased to wonder how he'd gotten so lucky. On Jordan's side of the balance sheet, the wonder was just as deep and strong. Occasionally she would see Sam or, from the corner of her eye, the flash of a dark head of hair and deep blue eyes and time would shift away from her, stranding her in the past. The ache would be fierce and fresh and then the reality of everything she had would banish the past full of what she didn't have.

And then her life, her nearly perfect reality came to a crashing halt. The phone call, as she examined a body – motorcyclist without helmet meets pavement; pavement wins. The kind of call she'd received once before. The kind she'd never wanted to receive again. Ed Deline had already sent a car for her by the time she hung up.

He met her at the hospital. His eyes, hooded and dark, his mouth set and stony made her knees buckle. She swallowed the tears that burned and stung her eyes. "Where is he?" She choked out.

Ed led her to the room where Danny lay, hooked up to tubes and monitors which all said the same thing: the damage was too great. Danny was conscious. He smiled at Jordan as she walked in. It was the same smile he always gave her, the one that welled up unbidden inside him, the one that flew from his heart and soul to rest on his lips at the slightest sight of her. "Hi," he managed weakly.

Her tears spilled over. "Hi." She sat down and took his hand.

"I'm sorry, Jordan."

"For what?"

He lifted his hand to run his finger down her cheek. "I promised I'd never hurt you." Her mouth trembled as the tears coursed down her face. He stroked her cheek a few more times before the effort became too much. "I-"

"Don't talk, Danny. Save your strength," she begged.

He gave her a sad look. "For what? You and I both know what's happening."

"Danny-"

"I love you." He squeezed her hand. "I think I have since I watched you walk out of that jet way and into my life. I never intended to, Jordan. But I can't imagine what my life would have been without you."

"Danny, don't – please…." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

"I'm sorry, Jordan."

She watched the light begin to fade from his eyes. She wanted to scream, to pound on the walls, to throw things, but most of all she wanted to gather him to her and somehow stop this. She leaned into him and kissed him gently.

He managed another smile. "Sleeping Beauty? A kiss changes everything?"

She laughed in spite of herself. "It did once, you know."

"I remember," he told her. He reached out his hand again. "Tell the girls I love them. Let them know I wanted to be there. And – And-" His breath hitched.

"Danny!"

He inhaled. "And make sure this one knows it, too." His hand rested against her belly, swollen slightly in the fourth month of pregnancy.

"I will, Danny. I will." She kept repeating her frantic declaration, a terrible mockery of their wedding vows, until her rational mind could make her realize he had gone. Realize, but not accept.

END Part Two


	3. Homecoming

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.

It's all for fun.

_A/N: I promise the Woody-torture won't continue forever, but after the way he behaved… well, a woman scorned and all. g _

**Part Three: Homecoming**

_Boston_

Lily and Garret met Ed Deline's private plane when it landed. The man himself stepped off the plane, one McCoy child in the crook of his arm, the other's hand grasped tightly in his. Behind him, Jordan emerged, her dark glasses a paltry defense against her grief. Her face was too thin and her skin too pale. She had drawn her back severely. Only the telltale bulge in the front of her black dress gave sign of much life.

Garret leaned over and whispered in Lily's ear. "Did you know she was…?"

Lily shook her head. "Not a clue. Wow."

Ed Strode up to Macy and Lily. He nodded at them. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see both of you again, but…."

Dr. Macy nodded.

Smiling a smile that never reached his eyes, Ed looked at the two little girls. "This," he dropped his gaze to take in only Catherine. "This is Catherine McCoy. And here-" He gave the girl in his arms a quick kiss on the forehead. "This is Sarah McCoy." His smile stayed in place but his eyes became, if possible, more sober. "I know all of you here in Boston will take good care of them." Jordan had reached his side. "And our Jordan, of course."

Garret nodded, his throat tight at the sight of his favorite subordinate – though she'd only ever been subordinate in name really. "Welcome home, Jordan." He took her hands and felt her slide into his embrace. He could feel the tension singing through her. A mournful countermelody of grief played against it. He ached for her. Of all the people he knew Jordan had fought the hardest for the happiness in her life. No one ever said that life was fair, but he wished, for her, it could have been.

Lily knelt and smiled at the older girl. She introduced herself and was rewarded with a big smile. "You worked with Mommy before. You help people when they're sad. Maybe you can help Mommy."

Lily choked back a gasp. Catherine McCoy was certainly her parents' child – forthright and honest, four going on forty. "I'll – um – I'll do my best."

Ed sighed as he studied the tableau, his grasp on Sarah still firm. "Jordan, are you sure you won't let me-?"

"I'm sure, Ed. You've already done a lot." She disengaged herself from Garret and reached for Sarah. Garret insisted on taking her instead. Jordan rolled her eyes slightly. She was pregnant, not helpless, but she knew the gesture came from love. "We'll be fine. And you've got that big opening."

He looked down for a moment. "Mindy can stay as long as you need her."

Jordan nodded. "She's going to help us settle in and then I'm sending her back. Danny and I never had a nanny before and I'm not going to start now."

Ed sighed again. "God, you're stubborn."

His observation coaxed a smile from her. "As a mule."

Deline kissed both girls goodbye, promised them they could come see him anytime it was okay with their mother and assured them that when the new baby arrived he would be the first one there. Catherine willingly gave her hand to Lily, a gesture that both pinched his soul and reassured him. He hated to let Danny's family go and hoped someday Jordan might choose to return, but he knew right now she couldn't face everything she was facing in a place that had so many happy memories lurking around every corner. The fact her former colleagues still treated her like family was good. The fact she'd also let him buy her a house in a decent part of Boston and pay for a good private school for the girls was better. He hugged her. "We'll miss all of you." He looked down at her. Tears stood in her eyes. "Come back to us someday, Jordan."

She made no commitment. "Thank you, Ed. For everything."

"I wish it were more. I wish-"

"Please don't." Her control wavered. "Get on that plane before you're late."

He studied her for a long moment. Danny had chosen well when he'd settled on this beautiful, spirited woman. They'd been a good match, maybe one of the best he'd ever seen. At last, he kissed her cheek in parting and was gone.

XXXXX

"Hey." Jordan's soft voice caught Garret's attention.

He looked up from his paperwork and smiled at her. "Hey, yourself. Come in." She sidled into the room and for a moment Garret was assailed by images of her doing that so many times before, usually when she wanted something. "Getting settled in?"

She nodded. "Pretty much."

"Lily said she's stopped by a couple of times."

"Yeah, she has," Jordan confirmed. "The girls like the way she lets them play in the bathtub. I've always been a little stricter about the amount of water that ends up on the floor. Danny lets them-" She bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at her hands, fidgeting restlessly in her lap. "Lily also reads bedtime stories quite well, apparently." Her voice was thick with tears.

Garret got up and came to sit beside her on the couch. He put an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against him. "How are _you_ doing, Jordan?"

She shrugged. "I miss him. I keep having to remind my daughters that their daddy's not coming home. I wonder how I'll ever make sure our son knows what an incredible man his father was-"

"This one's a boy?"

Jordan nodded. "Yeah." She wiped away the tears now trickling down her face. "I think Danny had already signed him up for T-Ball and Peewee football and was talking to his old military contacts about West Point." She gave a bitter, harsh laugh.

"Are you ever sorry, Jordan?"

She looked up at him. "For – For the last six years?"

Garret nodded.

"No. Danny was exactly what I needed at a time I really needed it. We liked each other."

"Just liked?"

"No, not _just_ liked, but that's how it started." She breathed deeply. "That's how it always was. We enjoyed each other's company. And there were never any illusions for either of us." She rubbed a hand over her belly. "I was always enough for him. Strengths. Flaws. Didn't matter."

Garret smiled at her. "You have flaws?"

She chuckled. "Believe it or not." She smiled as the baby kicked against her hand. "So, no, I could never regret it."

The chief M.E. ran a hand over her hair. He was proud of her. "So, any special reason you're here?"

She colored faintly. He could always read her like a book. "Maybe."

"Maybe like wanting your job back?"

"Could be that," she admitted.

"Jordan, are you sure? I mean – the baby, the girls… everything?"

"Garret, I worked until I went into labor with Catherine. I worked until two weeks before Sarah was born. I've got the girls settled into the pre-school that Ed insisted on. They've already made bunches of friends and have so many play dates I'm thinking about getting each of them their own PDAs. Mornings?"

He sighed.

"Please? I'm going nuts. I need to be doing _something_. I need something to – to take my mind off him every once in a while. I need to feel useful and I don't."

"Mornings. And I check with your doctor that it's okay. _And_ when she tells you to stop working, you listen. _And_ if it gets to be too much, you tell me."

She threw her arms around him and hugged him, agreeing blithely to his conditions.

XXXXX

Woody walked in and surveyed the chaos in the small diner. Tables and chairs overturned, food congealing on the floor, a couple of windows broken as patrons had fled the gunmen. Three dead – a waitress, the manager and a cook who, one frightened witness trapped in a booth until the rampage ended, said had tried to stop the gunman. The detective saw Dr. Vijay crouched next to the body of the waitress. "What've we got, Bug?"

He looked up. The chill between the morgue staff and Woody had never quite thawed. It wasn't so much that he'd hurt Jordan. She had obviously recovered. It was more how he'd hurt her – pushing her away, treating her with contempt, acting as if she didn't matter to him and never really had. Only Lily had gone to his wedding four years ago. She'd received praise for her charity and forgiveness until, with a wicked un-Lily like smile, she'd said, "Charity? Forgiveness? No way. I just want to go so I can think how much better Jordan looked at her wedding and how great that day was!"

"Bug?" Woody repeated.

Dr. Vijay shook his head. "Sorry. Three dead. Multiple gunshots to each vic. She died first." He pointed to the pallid blonde on the floor. Then he pointed to a young man in a white apron. "He was probably second. There are powder burns on his hands, so he may have fought with the perp."

Woody nodded. "A witness says the cook tried to stop our guy. Who else?"

"The manager. He's back toward the office. One shot to the chest and another to the – well, let's say, it's a little personal."

The detective grimaced.

"Looks like lots of prints. This guy wasn't subtle."

"Motive?"

Bug shrugged. "Maybe one of the poor people out there heard something."

"Oh, I've got motive," Jordan told them from the office doorway. She advanced and handed Woody a black and white picture. It showed the waitress in an intimate clinch with the manager. The word "whore" was scrawled in red across it.

Woody's mouth had dropped open at her appearance. He closed it with some effort. "Jordan. Hi." He gave her a wry grin, the same sort he'd given her the day he'd told her he'd moved on, right before she'd called Danny McCoy. His eyes ran up and down her body.

Betraying no emotion whatsoever, she gave him a very level look. "Hi. Something wrong?"

"I – uh – I didn't know you were coming back to work."

She nodded. "Almost three weeks now."

"And you're – um – I mean – you know…."

"Pregnant?" She smoothed her sweater over her belly, emphasizing its seven-months' roundness. "Yep. Turns out I'm pretty good at it." She let a sly grin spread across her face. "Or, at least, what gets ya' that way." She strode past him, telling Bug she'd meet him back at the morgue.

Woody gaped at her, his jaw hanging slackly again. He turned back to Bug. "Someone could have said something."

Bug raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. She didn't announce it to the whole Boston P.D. Her choice."

"Not the whole department. Someone could have told _me_."

"You know, Woody, you've barely asked about her in the last six years. I think we all assumed you wouldn't really care."

To that Woody made no response.

END Part Three


	4. His Father's Eyes

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

_A/N1: I promise the Woody-torture won't continue forever, but after the way he behaved… well, a woman scorned and all. g _

_A/N2: The reviews are making me blush! Thanks! _

**Part Four: His Father's Eyes**

_Boston_

Garret was in Autopsy Two with Bug and Woody, going over a particularly difficult finding when Nigel stuck his head in the door. "Dr. M, Lily just called."

Garret and Bug both gave him an expectant look. Woody looked from one to the other, his blue eyes confused, his mouth turned down at the left-out feeling.

Nigel's gaze dropped to the floor for a moment.

"Nigel?" Garret's voice was stern, suddenly worried.

Nigel pressed his lips together for a moment. "Jordan's fine."

"What about the baby?" Bug demanded. "Nigel?"

The Brit swallowed convulsively. "They had to deliver him by Caesarean. The cord prolapsed."

"Oh, my God," breathed Garret.

"Jordan? She had her baby?" Woody leapt into the conversation. "What does – whatever Nigel said mean?"

Bug's face was morose. "It means the baby didn't get any oxygen."

"Did Lily say how long, Nigel?" Garret asked, his entire focus on whatever information Nigel could impart.

He shook his head. "I don't think the doctors were sure. He's in the NICU. Lily said he's a fighter-"

"Of course, he is," Bug interrupted.

"Jordan's – She's okay, physically."

"God, this must be her worst nightmare," Garret said. He stripped off his gloves. "Where are the girls?"

"At the hospital with Lily. I told her I'd take them back to Jordan's when I'm done here."

Macy nodded. "You're done here. Go." He looked at Bug. "Bug, I'm sure your diagnosis is right. Report it. I'm going to check on Jordan."

Before Bug or Woody could protest, Macy was gone.

XXXXX

Garret found her at the window in front of the NICU. She sat in the mandatory wheelchair. He had never seen Jordan Cavanaugh – _McCoy_ he corrected himself – look so vulnerable. Her hair cascaded over the back of the chair. She slumped as she gazed through the window. He greeted her quietly and put a hand on her shoulder.

"He's fighting, Garret. He's really fighting."

He kissed the top of her head. "Of course, he is. His mom is one hell of a fighter. And so was his dad."

She reached up and caught his hand, squeezing it hard. "I can't lose him. I can't."

"What do the doctors say now?"

She shrugged. "They need another twelve hours or so. Evaluations. Observations." She bit back a sob. "I just want to hold him. Even if… Even if… It doesn't matter what they tell me."

"I know it doesn't, Jordan. And he'll be fine." He watched the baby wail in his hospital crib. Wires and monitors tracked his vitals – it must have been a horrid _déjà vu_ for Jordan. "What are you going to call him?"

She smiled and her voice became somewhat dreamy. "Daniel. Daniel Aaron. We'd agreed on that before – before Danny… before."

Garret stayed with her until a nurse came to take her back to her room. He promised Nigel would bring the girls in the morning and that Lily's time was Jordan's. He told her to call him anytime – _and I mean any time, Jordan_ – if she needed to.

XXXXX

His hand stroked her hair, his fingers tangling in its dark length. "Hi," his voice was soft, tender.

She smiled and reached for his hand. "Hi."

He kissed her forehead. "God, I miss you."

"Me, too." She felt tears start. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The baby." She choked on a sob.

"Hey, hey, hey. No. Come on, Jordan. Don't say that."

"But I – I must have done something –something." She let the sob come this time. "Something wrong."

He shook his head. "No, no, sweetheart. No. You did everything right. It just happened." He took her in her arms and rocked her, kissing her hair, her forehead, the tears on her cheeks. He found her mouth and pressed his lips to hers. "It just happened," he whispered.

"Danny, Danny," she wept. "I want him so much. I want him to be all right, but I don't care if he isn't. He has your eyes. I never thought I'd see your eyes again and now…now…" Tears trickled down her face.

"Shh. It's okay, Jordan." He tilted up her chin. "I promise. He'll be fine." He kissed her again. "I always kept my promises to you, didn't I?"

She nodded. "Except-"

"I know. And I hate that. I hate it." He stroked her cheek. "I love you. I always will. You – You and the kids – Nothing ever mattered more to me. He'll be fine. Honest."

She studied his face, lost herself in his eyes. And then nodded. "Don't leave me."

He smiled softly. "I'll stay until you know it's going to work out."

XXXXX

The nurse shook her gently and murmured her name. "Dr. McCoy? Doctor? Jordan?"

Slowly, Jordan opened her eyes. She scrubbed a hand across her face. "What – What time is it?"

"It's early, Dr. McCoy."

"My son-?" Jordan started up in her bed.

The nurse smiled. "Do you want me to bring him to you?"

Jordan's eyes widened. "But – Can you- Really?"

The woman nodded. "All his tests have come back just fine. The doctor will come in and tell you everything."

"But I can – I can have him?"

"I'll bring him right in."

After the nurse had left, the door closing slowly behind her on its pneumatic hinges, Jordan looked at the chair next to her bed. His scent hung on the air and she could swear that, in the corner, just on the edge of her peripheral vision, she could still find his tall, lanky form. "Thank you," she whispered.

XXXXX

Because of the baby's traumatic birth and the unexpected surgery (and probably due to phone calls from Boston's chief M.E. and a certain Las Vegas casino boss), the hospital kept Jordan longer than with her daughters.

On the second morning after her dream – _visitation?_ – she sat up in bed, cradling her son as he nursed. Nigel sat in the chair where Danny had when he assured Jordan everything would be fine. He wore an easy smile as he reported on how the Mc Coy girls were doing.

Jordan grinned and, as modestly as possible, shifted Daniel to her other side. "I can't thank you enough, Nige."

He laughed. "Thank me when you see the mess they've made of the house."

She shook her head. "You know what? I really don't care." She stroked the light, downy hair on her infant's tender skull. "My son is going to be all right. My daughters have adjusted to the move better than I expected. I have everything I need." Her eyes dimmed. "Well… almost."

Nigel stood up and gave Jordan a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'd better get to the morgue. I've got to have everything done so I can pick up Sarah at one from her play date with Verona and get Catherine from Brownies to ballet." He feigned exhaustion. "How do you do it all?"

She just laughed at him. A movement in the doorway caught her eye. Her laughter died. Her pulse sped up and her nerves tightened. She couldn't have said why – hormones, maybe. The stress of Daniel's birth and subsequent relief when he was declared perfectly healthy, perhaps. The echoes of an old friendship, possibly?

Nigel followed her gaze and leaned into her. "Shall I stay?"

"No," she murmured. "It's okay. Go" She squeezed his hand. "Brownies and ballet, remember?"

The glance Nigel gave Woody was not friendly, but the Brit complied with Jordan's request. He brushed past Woody with a warning look.

The door shut behind Nigel. For a moment, Woody stood rooted to the spot. Jordan's face was blank as she lifted Daniel up to burp him. A flutter of a smile crossed her lips as Woody quickly averted his eyes, despite her practiced modesty. Finally he raised his eyes back to her face. He smothered a sharp intake of breath. She'd given birth a few days before, spent nearly twenty-four hours wondering if her child would live or die and if he would be healthy and yet she still stole his breath. How had he ever forgotten how beautiful she was? And he had to admit that she was even more beautiful now. He hadn't truly noticed that day in the diner. Time and contentment had given her face a peace he'd never seen before. Though her grief was still written on her face, motherhood obviously agreed with her. He smiled. "Jordan."

"Hi, Woody." She craned her neck to check on Daniel. He'd fallen asleep on her shoulder. Still rubbing his back, she moved him to her arms and cooed softly to him. He opened his eyes and yawned hugely. His little fists waved for a moment and he bleated once or twice until his mother held him more closely. She looked down into his eyes, Danny's eyes, drinking in their color and depth. He closed those magnificent peepers and Jordan turned her attention to her unexpected visitor. "What brings you here?"

He gestured to the chair. "You mind?" When she shook her head, he sat down. He studied her baby for a moment. A jealousy he thought long extinguished gripped him. He dipped his head for a moment, before looking at her from beneath his lashes. "You."

"Me? Why?" Those echoes stirred again, a corner of her heart long shuttered reverberating with memories best left in the past.

"Because I need to apologize to you, Jordan."

END Part Four


	5. Times Like These

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

_A/N: Thanks again for the reviews!. As much as I am no doubt a W/J shipper, this story has been fun to write, due to the amazing chemistry between JH and JD._

**Part Five: Times Like These**

_Boston_

Jordan's brow knit down in puzzlement. "Apologize? For what?"

Woody took a deep breath. "After the shooting." He swallowed. "The way I behaved. I did and said a few things – more than a few really…."

She stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding dully in her chest. For months back then she had kept herself open to the possibility of his returning to her. She had cried and ached and yes, even grieved, God help her, for the way things had turned out. He had used her, then blamed her for her "betrayal" of him to the Riggs task force. He had treated her coldly, ignoring her unless it suited him. Still she had let hope flicker in her heart and soul. She'd waited for that apology, until slowly even Jordan Cavanaugh's vaunted stubbornness had conceded defeat. Until she'd realized she'd fallen in love with Danny McCoy. Her throat now was tighter than she would have liked. "That was a long time ago, Woody."

His expression was rueful. "Seems like yesterday sometimes."

Confusion flickered over her face, clouded her eyes. _What do you want, Woody?_ She nearly asked him, but feared the answer. Instead she replied, inanely she realized, "Time flies."

Woody's eyes bored into her. She dropped her gaze to her son. After a moment, Woody spoke again. "Everything's okay with – with him?"

Deliberately, Jordan said his name. "Daniel. And yes, he's fine."

"That's good, Jo."

Her head spun. No one had called her that in years. Danny had always used her full name – or teasingly called her Dr. Mc Coy, drawing out the syllables of their shared last name as though the very act of speaking them pleased him. She took a deep breath, willing away the tears that came as she stumbled upon another "never again," as she'd begun to think of them.

Woody saw the change in her. "Hey, Jo? You okay?"

She nodded and forced herself to smile. "Post partum hormones." She made the "crazy" motion, twirling her finger and pointing it at her own head. "Wacky stuff. Ask any new mom."

"You sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I've done this before after all."

He nodded. "Well, I – uh – I wanted to do that – to apologize. I know it was a long time ago, but-"

"Yeah," she murmured. "Thank you."

He stood up, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss her forehead. He'd given up that privilege long ago, and whatever he'd come here looking for today no longer existed.

"Oh, by the way," she said, regaining her composure. "It's a little late, but congratulations." It was Woody's turn to look perplexed. "Lily told me – uh – I know it was a couple years ago – but you got married. That's great."

He shook his head and held up a bare left hand. "Didn't work. But thanks for the thought." He left her looking stunned.

In the hallway he leaned against the wall. If he'd felt dumb when he went in to see her, he now felt like the champion idiot of all time. The Jordan he'd loved was gone. The woman he'd spent years yearning for, had ruined a marriage because of that yearning no longer existed. He began to wonder if the woman he'd wanted ever had really been there. He asked himself if this Jordan could ever have been if she'd stayed in Boston, if he hadn't pushed her away. He hated Danny McCoy for seeing the things in Jordan that he, who had called himself her best friend, had not. Most of all, though, he hated himself for losing the chance.

The question now was what he was going to do about it.

XXXXX

Woody didn't visit again, nor did he call her. To Jordan the incident was forgotten, for the most part. She had too much to do to think about the past. The typical sleep deprivation that came with a newborn seemed worse without Danny to help. She'd nursed both girls, but when they'd awoken in the night, Danny had always been the one to go get them. She'd nursed half-awake a good many nights, her husband stirring when the feedings were done and returning the babies to their cribs. Many times they hadn't gotten much sleep after a nocturnal feeding because they'd ended up making love, but the exhaustion had been a good one, a satisfied tiredness that rested on them, but didn't sink into their bones.

During the day, shepherding two active daughters, and caring for an infant, Jordan found her time and thoughts consumed by a myriad of details. At night, she cried as the baby suckled. She imagined the way Danny's hand used to lay on her hair while she fed their children. Damn it, she could still hear the soft, sleep-slurry things he used to say, the words that would quicken her pulse and start her body to aching for his touch. Sometimes, in the wonderfully fresh, milky scent of new baby, she would catch the faintest whiff of his aftershave and her heart would break all over again.

Exhaustion gave way to depression. She fought the smothering feelings of despair, but the battle went nowhere. She realized something had to change when she heard Catherine talking to Lily, who'd phoned to see how the baby was. Jordan's older daughter was telling Aunt Lily that Mommy needed her because Mommy was still so sad, not even baby Danny helped. By the time Lily arrived, Jordan had made a decision.

Ed had been asking if the girls could come for a visit. _Two weeks, Jordan. It'll do you all good_. Jordan had been resisting, feeling guilty at the thought of dumping her children on someone else just because she was a little tired. Now she called him. And told him she'd like Mindy to come back with them.

Three days later Ed had whisked away the girls and Jordan was suddenly rattling around the house with only the baby to care for. For the next four days she slept whenever he did. She took to getting up and nursing Daniel – the girls could call him _Danny_ but God knew she wasn't ready yet – in the rocking chair in the nursery. It was different and _different _hurt less. Jordan's mood lightened.

On the day her baby was two months old, Jordan stepped out of the shower and, for the first time in seven months, the first thing she thought wasn't about the way Danny used to watch her towel off and how frequently they'd both ended up back in the shower together. It was the second thing.

It was progress.

She called Garret and told him she'd be back at work in a month. She looked at her son and smiled, the first time since Danny's death when she felt like she was smiling just for herself. "And tonight, kiddo, you and me are gonna party! We've got some celebrating to do."

Daniel cooed in agreement.

XXXXX

Partying meant carry-out pizza from the place four blocks over and one beer. As darkness fell, Jordan strapped Daniel into the baby-carrier-backpack, grabbed her purse and walked out the door. She hummed a lullaby to him as they walked. After a block or two, she asked him if they should get a dog. Though he didn't have much opinion on that, Jordan was certain his sisters would. It was something she and Danny had talked about, but it just never happened. Her step faltered for a moment. The baby cooed again. The wind soughed through the trees. And inside Jordan Cavanaugh McCoy a door that had slammed shut the day her husband's life had drained away opened. She had her memories and she had their children. She'd wanted more – spending fifty years together, watching their children get married and have babies of their own, tottering around the retirement home, toothless and shouting at each other to be half-heard. But this was what she had, and Danny had shown her that sometimes the things you think won't be enough, won't matter, are the very ones that sustain you.

"What kind of dog should we get?" She asked her son. He gurgled. "Right. A Labrador Retriever. Perfect."

XXXXX

"Dr. McCoy!" The cashier greeted Jordan with a bright smile and came around from the register to give the baby a kiss on the cheek. Jordan wondered if she and the girls got their dinner here a little too often. "Can I?" The girl gestured to Daniel.

Jordan nodded and felt his weight being lifted from the backpack. She smiled at the teenager, who was waltzing Daniel back behind the counter and asking Jordan if she wanted the usual. "And a bottle of Sam Adams."

Lanie's eyebrows rose.

"It's okay," Jordan assured her. "One beer won't kill him. And we're celebrating."

The girl's eyes glowed with anticipation. "What?"

Jordan leaned over and rubbed her nose against her son's. "Daniel is two months old today."

From the kitchen they heard Lanie's father, Albert, calling out, asking if it was the McCoy's. "Just Dr. McCoy and the baby, Dad! Dr. McCoy wants her usual."

"Got it!" the man yelled back. "But tell her only if I get to see the little one."

With a laugh, Jordan waved for Lanie to take the baby back to the kitchen. Catherine and Sarah had been welcome visitors in the Montecito's kitchens, and Jordan had learned long ago not to worry – too much. She smiled to herself and took a seat to wait for her pizza. She doubted she'd see the baby again before then. Lanie's brothers also helped out in the kitchen and her mother was the bookkeeper and… Jordan might as well as enjoy the down time.

She thought about pizza in Las Vegas. It seemed like no one in the city could make one without topping it with a dazzling combination of exotic ingredients. Jordan hadn't minded giving some of them a try, though she'd frequently joked that when it took you longer to order the pie than to eat it, something was terribly wrong. However, when pregnant with Catherine she had craved a good, simple pepperoni pizza. Danny had badgered one of the chefs until the man gave in and made Jordan exactly what she wanted – no herbed crusts, a simple tomato sauce _sans_ organically grown fresh basil and the like, good mozzarella cheese instead of some "secret" six cheese blend and the kind of pepperoni you could get at a store, not one that came from one exclusive source in a small village in Italy. To the chef's outward disgust and inward delight at having made Dr. McCoy happy, Jordan never went back to mango-chipotle-smoked turkey, rosemary-wheat crust pizzas again. She thought of the times they'd call down in the middle of the night, then sit up in bed, hunkered over the room service tray and eat until the sun came up, talking the whole while. Almost without exception, Jordan would manage to drip sauce on herself somewhere. She let her memory drift to the times Danny would lean over and lick it from her chin, or wrist or… well, some of those drips hadn't been entirely accidental on her part.

For the second time that day her heart didn't break.

She looked up as the door squeaked open. He didn't see he,r and that was fine. For a moment she could study the man she'd once loved. Woody stepped to the counter. He peered around and then called out a tentative greeting.

From her table, Jordan smiled. "Come here often?"

He turned around. "Jordan! Hey." He walked over and gazed down at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I like to hang around pizza parlors. Didn't you know?" She grinned. "What do you think, Woody?"

He grinned back at her. "Where are – um – the kids?"

"Ed Deline convinced me to let the girls spend a couple of weeks with him, so it's jut me and – and Danny." Her tongue came to a crashing halt. "The baby," she added, her heart racing now. No, she still wasn't ready for that. Maybe someday.

Woody looked around, giving her a look that asked if those new mom hormones were still affecting her. "He's – where?"

"Oh," she chuckled. "Lanie took him in the back. He's kind of popular around here."

Woody pulled out the chair across from her. "How've you been?"

For a moment, she considered telling him everything had been great, nothing wrong, don't worry about her, but that had never been her way. She seesawed her hand. "Three kids, one who's a newborn…." She shrugged. "It's been a bit rough."

He looked genuinely concerned. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I hate to admit it, but having Ed take Catherine and Sarah has been great." She sighed. "I even agreed to let him send some help back with them." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "A nanny."

Woody laughed. "I kind of thought you would have had one before."

"No way! Danny and I did everything ourselves." She smiled softly. "Although we did have a whole casino staff ready to baby sit at a moment's notice."

"Do you miss it? Living out there?"

Jordan shrugged. "I miss some things. The weather. The friends I made out there." Danny's name went unspoken. "But in some ways life just isn't real out there. Not where I – where we were." She looked around the small pizzeria. "We never went to places like this. No need to. After a while, though, you miss seeing all the different kinds of people." She took a deep breath. "How are you?"

He nodded. "Pretty good. Up for a promotion, so I can't complain."

"That's great. I'm sure you deserve it."

"Dr. McCoy?" Lanie reappeared, Daniel riding over her shoulder. She blushed when she saw a new customer. "Oh, wow! Sorry, Detective Hoyt! I was – um…." Her voice trailed off. She gave Woody a look of teenage puppy love for a moment. "Your pizza's ready, Dr. McCoy." The girl rushed on. "I'll – uh – I'll get the baby back in the carrier."

Jordan smiled. "Thanks." She stood up, feeling Daniel's reassuring weight return to the backpack. She hadn't realized how disconnected part of her had been without him. Lanie's father carried out the pizza and waved at Jordan.

With a wave in return, Jordan reached for the box.

"Um – let me," Woody said, intercepting her.

"It's fine, Woody. I can manage."

He looked out the window. "It's dark, Jordan."

"And this is a good neighborhood."

"It's still Boston and you're still a woman alone with a baby. Come on, I'll walk you home."

"What about you? You obviously came in here to get dinner."

He gave her a small smile. "I'll come right back. Lanie knows my usual." He gave the teen a wide grin. She blushed and dipped her head. The detective looked back at the woman in front of him. "I'd feel better knowing you got home safely."

Shaking her head, Jordan acquiesced. They walked in silence. Halfway home, the baby began to fuss a bit. "Probably misses all the attention," his mother commented wryly.

To her surprise, Woody began to hum a lullaby. Jordan arched her eyebrows at him. He stopped. "What? My mother used to sing it to Cal and me."

"Ah," Jordan replied. "Well, he seems to like it."

So Woody continued, humming softly to Jordan's son, every fiber of his being wishing that this was their son and every brain cell acknowledging just how badly he'd screwed up and all the dark corners of his heart despairing of earning her back.

When they reached the house, Woody gave a low whistle. "Not bad."

Jordan nodded. "Ed. He's done a lot for us. Of course, if I hadn't let him, I think he'd have found some way to keep me in Las Vegas." She unlocked the front door. "Thanks for walking us home."

"You're welcome, Jo. It was nice."

"Yeah." She tilted her head. "Look, Woody, that pizza is a large – more than enough for two. Why don't you come in?"

His deep eyes studied her for a moment. "You don't have to."

"I know," she said with a smile. "I want to. We owe you. And this is a celebration."

He gave her a confused look. "Daniel's two months old today."

Woody looked at the child in the backpack. "Well, in that case…."

"Good." She stood aside to let him enter. He found his way to the kitchen and set the pizza down. As she got herself out of the baby carrier and freed Daniel from the safety straps, she heard him searching for plates. She came into the kitchen. "I'll get everything if you'll take him. It'll be easier." She thrust the baby at him, giving him no choice but to take the infant awkwardly in his arms. "He likes to be on a shoulder," she informed him as she moved around, pulling out plates and glasses. "Beer?"

His neck craned to gaze at the bundle now drooling on his dress shirt, he didn't really hear her. "Huh?"

She waggled the single bottle at him.

He shook his head. "Thanks, though. Whatever you've got is fine."

"Careful when you say that. We're well stocked on Juicy Juice boxes!" He laughed with her. "Go on into the family room – if you don't mind eating on the couch? I can put Daniel in his play pen and…?"

"Fine, Jo." He followed the direction she'd waved. Holding the baby, he moved around the room, seeing so many things that were so Jordan and many others that weren't. His heart clenched at the photo on the credenza behind the couch. Jordan's wedding photo. Her dress had been cream, simple, elegant. Danny was resplendent in military dress. They stood, her head on his chest, his arms tight around her, his eyes drinking her in as she smiled for the camera.

Jordan came in juggling two plates and a couple of cups. "I see you found-"

Woody turned around and she caught the drift of his gaze. Their eyes locked.

END Part Five


	6. Old Familiar Places

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.

It's all for fun.

_A/N: **Thank you thank you thank you to all the kind reviewers! I appreciate the WJ shippers go along on this ride with me. The end is in sight and hopefully everyone will end up pleased.**_

**Part Six: Old Familiar Places**

_Boston_

Jordan took a deep breath. "I- Uh – That…."

"You really were happy with him, weren't you?" Woody's voice was amazed.

Slowly, Jordan nodded, her eyes wide and staring as a rabbit gone tharn. She spoke softly. "I never expected to be. But yeah, yeah."

His lips quirked into a bitter smile. "You were – stunning." He looked at her again, as if seeing her warm brown eyes and strong face for the first time. "Still are."

She blushed, her eyes dropping to the floor. She trailed her toe along the carpet, at a complete loss for words. She moved away from him, toward the couch. "Dinner'll get cold." She set down the plates and cups and took the baby from Woody. She made nonsense noises – gurgles and coos and silly words – as she laid him down in his play pen. He waved his fists and toes at her as she set a mobile in motion above his head. His eyes went to it immediately. Ducks, lambs and ….

"Cute mobile," Woody said.

She looked over her shoulder. "Danny had it made when Catherine was on the way."

Woody narrowed his eyes. "I get the ducks and the lambs, but…?"

Jordan smiled. "It was –" She shook her head. "It was something between us."

"Complicated?" His tone was challenging.

She sat down on the couch. "No, actually, not at all." She hesitated. "Come on, sit down."

Stiffly, Woody sat down and picked up the plate she'd placed on the coffee table. "Thanks." He lifted up the cup she'd put next to the plate. He peered into it. "Grape juice?"

"I told ya." She lifted her own cup. "Cheers." The tension was thick as Jordan began to nibble at her slice of pizza. She longed for the right words, but they escaped her. At least nothing seemed to have changed there. Finally she dropped the half-eaten piece onto her plate and sighed. She rested one elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her head against her palm. "I'm sorry."

Woody looked at her, his own meal congealing slowly. "Why?"

"This is – It's awkward. And I didn't mean for it to be."

He tried to smile at her, but it came out as the grimace he truly felt. "It's not your fault, Jordan."

"Then what is it?" She leaned forward, toward him just a bit. "We were talking, having – well, fun, I guess. It was – It was like before."

He looked at her from under his lashes. "Before you hooked up with Danny McCoy?"

"No." She gave him an angry shake of her head. "Before the shooting, before everything with Riggs. It was like being – being friends again, Woody."

"Friendship? Of course, Jordan."

She closed her eyes briefly. "Woody – I – Did you think – Did I do or say something that made…" she fluttered a hand around. "…this seems like – like more than it is?"

"No." He looked away. "Yes. I don't know." He stood up and began pacing between the couch and the play pen. "I loved you, Jo. I screwed that up, I know. But I did. I married someone else thinking maybe I could stop, but all that happened was I screwed up her life, too."

"Woody-"

"I guess – I guess some awful part of me wanted you to be unhappy, too. But you really weren't. I told you to move on and - wouldn't you know? - it was one of the only times you did what I asked you to. And now – look at you." His eyes ran over her and she felt prickles of feeling she'd thought long dead and buried. "You're so different. And I – I don't know what I want." He stopped in front of the "baby cage" as Catherine had dubbed it and watched the baby lying there, staring up at him with Danny McCoy's eyes. "I still love you, though. I still miss you."

Jordan took a few shallow breaths. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. "Woody, I can't – Right now…? The only thing I can think about is friendship."

He nodded. "I know. I do. I know."

She sat forward, her elbows on her knees. "And to be honest – I don't know if I ever – You and me, I mean. I'm sorry. I just – I don't know if I can-"

"I know that, too, Jo. And you have every right to your doubts."

Her reply was cut off by a whimper that quickly roared into a full throated scream. Jordan sighed. "He's hungry." She stood up. Woody moved aside, but only barely. Her arm brushed his when she reached for the baby. Her felt her flinch, but her face remained calm, her eyes focused on her child. She looked at him, a half-smile, uncertain, entreating, and said, "Look, it'll just take a few minutes. I'll go upstairs and feed him, put him down and then – we need to finish this conversation."

Wordlessly, he nodded.

She stopped when she reached the bottom riser of the stairs. She didn't turn around. "Woody? Did you ever _like_ me?"

His brow furrowed. "Jo, I loved you."

"I know." Now she turned, her cheeks wet with tears. "But did you _like_ me?"

END Part Six

_Sorry – I know it's short but I actually have to work tomorrow so I need to get some sleep!_


	7. Subtext

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made. It's all for fun.

_A/N: **As ever, thank you for the lovely reviews. I'm glad this feels realistic to those of you who've commented on Jordan's actions and behavior. As for what the other element of the mobile was – well, like the show, I'm leaving that up to the imagination, though I'm leaning toward garden gnomes. (grin).The final part should be posted tomorrow.**_

**Part Seven: Subtext**

_Boston_

By the time Jordan came back down, Woody was gone. She'd more or less expected that – she'd spent enough years running every time life threw her a curve to know when someone was ready to sprint out the door – but she was still disappointed. Disappointed not because she'd envisioned some cathartic resolution to the whole problem, but because something he'd said had struck a chord in her.

_I miss you, too, Woody_ had been on the tip of her tongue, but she'd closed her mouth around it and kept the words behind the locked gates of her lips. He might have read something into it that she didn't mean. The truth was, though, that she did miss him. Not the constant balancing act she'd gotten into – denying her feelings to protect his and failing at both, keeping him at bay as a lover and trying to hold him close as a friend. She missed the simple, quiet moments. Over the years she'd realized how seldom those had come around and she'd known that maybe if there'd been more of them – if she'd have let there be more of them – that maybe it would have worked. Shortly after telling Danny she loved him, she'd sat in her office and puzzled out why it worked with him and not Woody. She knew a lot of her friends would have said it was the distance, and, once upon a time, she might have agreed, but by the time she knew she loved Danny, she also knew she needed him and was incomplete without him. She'd finally decided the answer was incredibly simple – that liking they shared. With Woody, she'd gone through every emotion she could think of – an ABC book of them perhaps. They'd started at attraction and gone from there, hitting highlights with condescension, jealousy and worry. But beneath it all – always – had been the questions and the doubts and, in the end, the pain and anger. She couldn't shake the question though – had they ever liked each other?

She picked up the brief note he'd scrawled. A call came in, it told her. She decided to believe it. It was easier than the answer she feared. It was easier than _No_ or even _I'm not sure_.

She sighed and sunk down on the lowest step. The house creaked around her. Danny had never seemed further from her than at that moment.

XXXXX

_Boston – six months later_

Jordan tapped her pen against her desk. She took a deep breath and closed the report she was checking. She'd already read over it four times. She just didn't want to go home. Catherine was an overnight Brownie camp; Sarah was sleeping over at a friend's house and Lily had begged to take Dan-Dan (it was the best Jordan could do for a nickname) for the night. Home would be empty without them.

Jordan was proud of herself. She'd been back at work five months and was juggling three kids fairly well. The house was a safe, comfortable haven filled with children's shrieking laughter and the first babbling sounds of a baby learning to talk. A lab puppy now chased the kids around the house and yard. The baby had taken his first tottering steps and ate solid food. There were no shadows in the house, no ghosts. Any unhappy memories would only be of the typical childhood traumas: skinned knees, pinched fingers and flat bicycle tires. Jordan had begun to lose the sound of Danny's voice. Her skin couldn't quite recall the way he touched her. His scent was a thing of the past. She watched videos to hear his laughter, to watch him smile, but they were only videos. He had been dead just over a year. And Jordan had started to let him go.

She pushed back her chair and did something she hadn't done since she'd returned. She headed for the roof.

She sat on the low wall and gazed at the street below before letting her eyes drift out over the city. Darkness had come on softly, stealing over her, surprising her. She heard the door open. It was probably Garret. He would have seen her car, gotten worried and come looking for her. The wind toyed with her dark hair, until she nudged a strand of it away from her eyes. She looked up.

"I thought you might be up here." Woody smiled uncertainly at her. They'd worked together a few times and it had all been very civil. He'd asked after the kids; she'd congratulated him on that promotion. He'd even sent his regrets at not attending the surprise party the staff, in collusion with her devious daughters, had thrown for her fortieth birthday.

"And here I am," Jordan replied, standing up, her hands sliding into the pockets of her jeans.

"You asked me something, Jordan." His head dipped for a moment. "That night."

"Yeah. A while ago, Woody."

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I – I didn't understand it for a long time."

Her mouth quirked into a faintly disbelieving grimace. "And now you do?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He gestured to the wall. "Mind if I join you?" She shook her head. They sat a few feet apart, both mute for a few minutes, the sounds of traffic dim and far away up here. At last he took a deep breath. "You and – and him – you _liked_ each other, didn't you?"

She nodded. "We enjoyed being together."

"You and I didn't?"

"I don't mean that, Woody. You and I – God – it was always so complicated. I know, I know-" she forestalled his protest with an upraised hand. "-it went both ways, you know. There were always so many undercurrents, so much subtext. I just – Everything was… simple with Danny. We knew what we wanted from each other and – and what we could give each other was always enough for the other one."

"What does that mean, Jo?"

She sighed. "I can't seem to explain it to anyone, other than to keep saying we liked each other. He liked me, Woody, for who I was, where I was. He never – He never wanted me to change and he didn't change for me."

"I didn't want you to change!"

She took his hand. "But you did. You wanted me to change for the better – I finally saw that, but, even though you said my 'issues' made me who I was, you wanted me – maybe needed me to get past them. And this huge part of me wanted to! But this little part was so afraid of changing, of growing and of it still not being enough."

He looked at her and clutched at her hand. "And then – that's what happened."

"Yeah." She wiped at the tears standing in her eyes with her free hand. "I did – did love you." She gave him a weak smile. "Too little, too late."

Woody took a shuddering breath. "Not too little, Jo. Don't ever think that." He pulled away from her and stood up. "I was the one who too late." He studied her, his heart pulled into a million pieces at the silent tears running down her face. He'd seen Jordan cry too many times. Danny McCoy had seen her smile, heard her laugh, watched her play with their children, and Woody couldn't figure out who he hated more for that – a dead man or the man who had died emotionally the day he'd heard Jordan had moved to Las Vegas. He turned from her. "How long has it been?"

_Since…? Oh. Of course. _She sniffed. "Almost thirteen months."

"Do you miss him?"

She stifled the whimper that rose in her throat. "Every day. I always will."

He was silent for a long time. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened… if?"

"If Riggs hadn't happened? If I'd told you how I felt on my birthday that one year? If I hadn't answered my cell phone that time in L.A.? If…?" She had regained some of her typical Jordan bravado. "Yeah. I used to wonder. For a while."

"And now you don't?"

She shrugged. "It's more that now – now it doesn't matter. It didn't happen. We both moved on."

He finally turned back to face her. "Jordan Cavanaugh letting go of the past?"

She smiled. "Stranger things have happened."

"Not many," he teased, but his tone was sad and his eyes mournful. "I should get going. You should, too. Kids are probably waiting, right?"

"Actually, I'm on my own tonight." She watched him from beneath her lashes. "You never answered my question."

He took a step toward her. Taking her hands, he tugged her to her feet. "You're right. It was never simple between us." He lifted a hand to brush away that rebellious lock of hair from her cheek. He sucked in a hollow breath when his fingers came into contact with the dampness still lingering on her skin. "We probably went through every emotion there is – and maybe a few no one's named yet." She laughed softly. "But, yeah, Jo. Yeah, I always liked you." He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry you didn't know that."

END Part Seven


	8. Our Place in Time

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. I respond to everything except flames. Constructive criticism is valued.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. No profit is being made.

It's all for fun.

_A/N: **Thanks for all the lovely feedback! I'm glad those of you responding enjoyed the story thus far. Hopefully the ending will not disappoint.**_

**Part Eight: Our Place in Time**

_Boston_

It was still deep night when Jordan woke up. She'd come home to her empty house, eaten a dismal dinner, soaked in the tub and then crawled into bed. Woody had invited her to dinner, but she'd declined. She was too confused to be anything other than alone.

She lay in the darkness, everything still around her. For a moment, she held her breath.

"Hi." His voice was warm, sensual as ever, sending chills up her spine, back down it and into her toes.

Jordan gasped.

Danny sat on the edge of her bed, watching her, his dark eyes filled with concern. Slowly, he stretched out beside her, bringing her into his arms, stroking her hair, murmuring softly to her. "Hey," he said after a moment, pulling back enough to smile at her. "You remember when they told us they thought Sarah had spina bifida?"

She gulped and nodded, unable to speak

He smoothed her hair. "We went home and cried. Both of us." His smile was sad at the memory. "We were scared as hell and then – we told Ed about the test results and he started to – to say all the things someone is supposed to say." He paused. "You stopped him. You told him it didn't matter, that we would love her no matter what, that we could handle it."

Softly, Jordan spoke through free-flowing tears. "I always was stubborn."

He tilted up her chin. "No. You've always been so full of life, Jordan. Even when living your own life scared you – you had so much passion for life that you did everything in your power to speak for the dead and to help anyone else who needed it." He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her mouth. "Jordan, don't stop living."

"I'm not-!"

"You try to tell yourself you're moving on. You go to work; you take care of the kids. But deep down, you _grieve_." He rested his forehead against hers. "That's not living."

"Danny, I can't-"

"Yes, you can!" His voice was stern and profoundly sad.

"I don't want to lose you!"

He took a deep breath. "You won't. I'm always with you. Nothing can change what we had. But you have to keep going, Jordan." He held her more tightly. "Do you remember something you said to me once, about Max? About how sometimes you wondered if it might have been better if they'd put him in the ground when they buried your mother?"

She nodded, clinging to him.

"Don't do that, Jordan, don't do it to our children. Don't make their lives all about the father who isn't there. Don't make me some hero or saint who isn't real. Don't need them so much you end up resenting them." His face was quite serious as he regarded her. "Laugh. Live. Love."

She took deep breaths, her eyes squeezed shut. After long moments, her heart's pounding the only sound, she nodded. His lips found hers. He kissed her deeply, his tongue darting into her willing mouth. She arched against him and he ran his hand down her back. He broke the kiss and laid his mouth against her ear. "I love you, Dr. McCoy." He drew out the syllables, letting them float in the darkness. Jordan felt the warmth of his lips on her forehead and his scent enveloped her. And then he was gone.

Somehow she knew he wasn't coming back. The emptiness she'd felt almost seven years ago was back. The kind of emptiness waiting to be filled.

XXXXX

Owlishly, Woody stared at the bedside clock. _Who in the hell- It's three a.m.!_ Cursing mildly, stumbling from his bed and tugging on a pair of sweat pants, he trudged to the door. He was awake instantly when he saw her on the other side of the peephole. "Jordan! Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Um – Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Get you something?"

"No. Thanks."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering in the dim glow from the streetlight. "I'm fine."

"Then – uh – don't take this the wrong way – but why are you here?"

She took a step toward him. "Because… I like you, too. I don't want to go back to the past, Woody. But I think – no, I _want_ to find out what's in the future."

He stared at her, her words seeping into his consciousness. "You and me?"

"I can't make any promises. Except that I'm not afraid anymore. No one more step forward, half a mile backwards."

He chuckled at her. "Jo, I'm so sorry for everything-"

"Shh." She put a finger to his lips. "No regrets."

He put his arms around her. "Are you sure?"

She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "Yep. And I'll still be sure in the morning."

Woody looked down at her, at his second chance. She smiled in that sly, tender, yet almost mocking way she always had. Wordlessly, he lifted her into his arms. He dipped his head and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, tickling her in just the way he'd fantasized about it. Her lips parted just enough to let him slide his tongue into her mouth. She made a small mewling sound and the arms she'd put around his neck tightened around him. He drew her body closer.

One of her hands slid to his chest and began tugging at the old t-shirt he was wearing. "God, Jo, don't do that," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Why not?" she demanded.

He smiled at her. "Because I'll never make it to the bedroom if you do that."

"There's a problem with that?" Her grin was positively wicked.

"The floor's damn har- um, uncomfortable." He blushed. "And I – I really don't want the first time to be on vinyl tiles that need to be replaced."

She removed her hand from his chest, cupping the back of his head instead. "Then you'd better get a move on, Farm Boy."

Eagerly, he complied with her command. He kicked the door shut behind him, wanting the whole world to be confined within the walls of his room that night. When he laid her on his bed, it was gently done. He searched her face for a moment, part of him waiting for all the old Jordan uncertainties to tear her away from him. The only uncertainty in the honey of her eyes though was why he hesitated.

His mouth sought hers again as his hands began unbuttoning the shirt she'd tossed on. She was bare beneath it, her skin as soft and supple as in the same fantasies of kissing her. He finished with the buttons and wrestled her out of the garment. She responded by tugging his t-shirt over his head and running her fingers along the sculpted muscles of his chest and abdomen. The sucked in breath he took told her he liked what she was doing.

She set every nerve ending in his body on fire, her simple touch arousing him in a way no other woman ever could. Already close to the edge of pleasure, he distracted her by kissing his way down her throat, over her collarbone and finding one nipple with his mouth. She cried out in pleasure as his tongue swept over her. Her back curved into a question mark as her body came off the mattress. She panted as he intensified the pressure and as one hand began to caress her other breast. Her body tensed, aching with anticipation. For the first time in over a year, she let herself feel desire – and feel desirable. Her pulse quickened again.

Woody broke off and gave her a teasing grin as he began to trail his hand down her abdomen. She groaned as he fingers slipped into the waistband of her jeans. He wondered if she would be bare beneath those, too. His fingers deftly flicked open the top button and slid down the zipper. She wriggled her hips to help him remove the denim. Woody forced himself to focus on her long legs, stroking his way up her calves, kissing her skin, working up to her trembling thighs, which parted easily at his touch. Finally, he ran his fingers over the most intimate part of her body. Not bare, but silk was damn close. She bucked as he stroked her through the cloth.

He blew a breath softly along her thighs. She shivered with pleasure. Her hands clutched at the pillow beneath her head, scrabbling along the cotton case for purchase. Her moans sharpened as he continued to kiss his way along her body. Her senses reeled from his gentle, but relentless, attention to the physical core of her being. "Woody, Woody, Woody," she cried. "Woody, please!"

He moved up her belly, letting his fingers continue to subject her to his tender mercies. "Please what, Jo?" His voice was soft and teasing.

She groaned at him. "I want you."

He stretched out next to her, one leg thrown proprietarily over her. "I'm right here." He raised a hand and twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers.

"You know what I mean."

He whispered in her ear. "Tell me anyway, Jo."

"I want you – inside." Her eyes flickered shut, then she opened them wide. "Make love to me, Woody."

He kissed her, feeling her meet him the whole way. She rolled on to her side and opened her body to him. He held her as closely as he could, moving inside of her, feeling the tension build in her body and then she cried out, her voice wild and sharp, as release took her. Her fingers gripped his back, the nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin. He followed her quickly as she still shuddered around him.

For a long time, they lay silently, holding each other, their breathing slowing. Jordan kept her head on his chest as his fingers played through her hair. When his breathing was steady, he asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" she responded, sleep reaching for her.

"Why now, Jo?"

Sleep retreated. She lifted up her head. "Because I still love you. And because I once sat on the fence too long."

He cocked his head. "You still love me?"

She nodded.

"That simple?"

"Sometimes, Woody, it's that simple." She smiled at him.

"Then – Jo – years ago… why did you leave?"

"Because I couldn't stay." She kissed him lightly. "And I did love Danny. I always will – you have to know that. He's the father of my children and – and he made me feel things I'd never felt before. Things I'd been too scared to feel." Her dark eyes took him in levelly. "With Danny I found out the more people I let into my heart, the more room there was." She pressed her lips together for a moment. "Without him, I've learned that I can survive whatever pain life throws at me without retreating into myself."

Woody cupped her face in his hands, his fingers tracing her cheekbones. "Does this mean I have to stop hating him?"

She laughed. "That would be helpful." His thumb ran over her lower lip. She nipped at it, smiling at his surprise. "Can you accept – everything?"

His eyes glittered in the darkness as he pulled her to him tightly once more. "Yeah, Jo. I can." His hands stroked down her hair, coming to rest on her shoulders. "I never stopped loving you." He grinned. "I'm not sure I really knew who you were – the way you are now – it about kills me that it took someone else to – to find that – but if it means we finally have a chance…then yeah, I can live with everything."

XXXXX

Decidedly more certain of herself than ever in her life, but still not the planet's most spontaneous person, it took Jordan almost another two years to accept Woody's marriage proposal. In the end it was her forthright, honest oldest child who, with a roll of her eyes, made up her mother's mind. "Come on, Mom. Marry him already. If you don't then having another baby is going to be difficult."

Holding a pancake on a turner that Saturday morning, Jordan gaped at Catherine. "What is that supposed to mean?"

A deep sigh from her ever-so-grown up eight year old punctuated the reply. "Mom, don't take this totally the wrong way, but you're getting kind of _old_."

By the time Jordan reported the conversation to Lily on Monday, she was laughing about it. "Old!" She grinned. "Old! Me!" Jordan had gestured to her outfit that day – jeans which revealed every curve was still as well toned as ever, a low cut top that declared Jordan either had great genetics or a good plastic surgeon, as well as understated jewelry that brought out the depth of her eyes and the splendor of her complexion.

"Old? Never!" Woody was leaning against her doorframe, smiling.

Lily excused herself, leaving Jordan to slide into her detective's embrace. Woody gave Jordan a long kiss that had her wondering about the feasibility of locking her door and clearing her desk. Instead, she stunned him. "We have to get married."

His eyebrows arched, giving him the boyish look he'd almost outgrown. "Or you father will come after me with a shotgun?"

She laughed. "No, not that." She bit her lower lip. "Though – well, according to Catherine I'm getting old and, therefore I should marry you."

"And what does Catherine's mom think?" Woody ran his hand down her hair.

Jordan took a deep breath. "Catherine's mom thinks it's time." She leaned up and kissed him.

He took her face in his hands. "Are you sure, Jo?"

She nodded. "Oh, and one more thing."

"I think I'm scared."

This teased a wide grin from Jordan. "Catherine says if I don't marry you soon having another baby is going to be difficult."

Woody peered into her eyes for a moment. Then he dipped his head down to hers, their noses touching. "Do you want one more?"

"With you? Yeah." She wrapped her arms around him. "Hell, Farm Boy, if we do things the way I did with Danny, we can have another two or three."

Woody gave her a leery look. "Now I know I'm scared."

XXXXX

Father Paul married them in a small ceremony at the church Jordan had attended – sporadically – as a child and young woman. It was ten years to the day that Bridget Sparks had jumped out of that morgue window.

As they posed for photographs afterwards, a figure in the last pew caught Jordan's attention. She started to say something, but the photographer commanded the bride and groom to smile at that moment. She glanced up at Woody and let the huge grin wreathing his face encompass hers. When she looked back, the figure was gone. She gasped quietly.

"What is it?" Woody whispered in her ear.

After a moment, she shook head. "I thought- I saw…."

"Did you see someone who shouldn't be here?"

"No," her voice was soft. "Just a well-wisher."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "Very sure." Jordan slipped her hand into Woody's. "Come on, Hoyt. Your kid may not be big enough to tell anyone else about yet, but I _am_ eating for two and we're both hungry."

Woody gazed around the church and mouthed, "Thanks." To God or Danny McCoy, he wasn't certain. It didn't matter – he'd asked for a miracle and gotten it.

END


End file.
